


Helpless

by cultivateourgarden



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Rape Fantasy, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5770675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cultivateourgarden/pseuds/cultivateourgarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt on the BBC Sherlock prompting meme.  Molly's had non-con fantasies for as long as she can remember.  After a particularly long day, she comes home and imagines a particular detective having his wicked way with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helpless

Molly sighed, putting down food for Toby, and turning down the lights. It had been a miserable day, long, and she’d put her foot in her mouth _again_. Stupid, so stupid, why couldn’t she ever just know the right thing to say?

She glanced at the clock, and then at the dresser. Yes, there was time, and it’d help her sleep anyway. She opened the top drawer, taking out a small silver bullet, a bottle of lube, and then shed her trousers and drawers, putting them in the hamper before sliding into bed.

She filed through her mental deck of images, but none of them seemed quite right.

No, she’d try—she felt rather embarrassed about this, and more than a bit dirty. She’d seen the aftermath of sexual assault, God knew, but still, the fantasy…

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting her imagination take over.

_She’s standing in the lab, working on some corpse, when she feels a hand on her shoulder. She jumps, but turns around to see Sherlock standing there. His eyes have a strange, dark gleam, but she smiles, nervously._

_“Sherlock! I didn’t hear you come in. What—what do you need? I don’t have any new corpses…”_

_“Oh, I think you know what_ I _want, don’t you, Molly.” He purrs her name, backing her up against a table. “We both know very well.”_

_Her heart is beating fast now, unsure and nervous. “I—I don’t know what you mean…”_

_She gasps suddenly as she sees a cloth in his hand, and it closes over her mouth, the smell sweet as she struggles until darkness sweeps over her…_

Molly rubbed a bit of lube between her legs, slipping the toy there, and turning it on, rubbing around her labia slowly, letting herself get worked up, warmth sparking slowly as she imagined the scene.

 _She wakes—_ How should she wake up? What would be the most practical? Spread eagle? No, that’d make it hard to move around… _She wakes in a dark room, her hands tied behind her with satin ribbons, and her legs bound open to the posts of a large four-poster bed with heavy, red velvet curtains._

_“Who—what’s going on?” Sherlock stalks into view, naked and aroused, and she gasps helplessly, trying to squirm away and hide herself, but unable to do so. “What are you going to do?” Her voice trembles, but she can’t help the hot spike between her legs, the moistness she can feel starting._

_“You know the answer to that, Molly.” He crouches over her, kissing her fiercely, hands on her breasts, teasing the nipples, running hot hands down her side._

_She squirms, begging, trying to get away from his hands, but of course, he’s much stronger and she’s tied up. “No, Sherlock, please don’t…don’t…”_

_He grabs her chin and forces it up. “You can’t stop me, Molly. You might as well enjoy it.” His hands dip lower, slipping between her legs, teasing over her folds, making her squirm and whimper…_

There’s a nice buzz of pleasure there now, and she can smell herself as she works the toy around her labia, pressing a bit deeper, imagining where his hands would go, rubbing her breasts with her free hand.

_“Please, please, Sherlock, don’t…I don’t, I don’t want—” But he just laughs as he teases her, hands all over her, clever and knowing just where she likes it, because he’d deduce that, of course he would._

_“What’s this?” Her head turns, and she sees John there, standing in the door, fully clothed._

_“John, please, help me!” she begs, trying to get loose as Sherlock holds her down, his shaft stiff against her leg._

_John chuckles a little. “Having fun without me, Sherlock? That’s not very nice.” He undresses too, going to the bed and propping her up from behind, running his hands over her breasts as well, nosing her hair, kissing the side of her head. He’s different, hands less nimble, but more calloused, a bit rougher, but more as if he owns her. “Have the first go then, love?”_

_Sherlock laughs and presses into her, despite her little squeals and struggles, filling her as his fingers press against her clitoris, pressing and rubbing as he begins to move in and out…_

She was breathing a bit fast now, pressing the toy harder against herself, slipping it inside her and out, feeling the tension build, slowly, but coming on steadily. It’d be a good one tonight, just patient, patient.

_She struggles but it’s no good—John pins her from behind as Sherlock presses into her, over and over, his hands between her legs, rubbing in firm, agonizingly good circles, deeper and harder, but just right—just right—dragging moans from her, despite her pleas to stop, or perhaps, not to stop._

It built like a flood, closer and closer as she pressed the toy around, keeping the tension, keeping the movement, yes, it was so close—her back arched as her muscles clenched in delicious anguish, spilling over as she clenched and released over and over, breath fast and hard, biting off moans so the neighbors wouldn’t hear.

When she released herself, she lay back on the bed, breathing hard, warm and glowing with pleasure.

_Afterwards, she lies there, spent and helpless, as John and Sherlock hold her, still petting her lightly, tied, and utterly unable to resist whatever they do next. “Now, Molly.” Sherlock kisses her lightly. “You won’t tell anyone, will you. This will be our secret.”_

And it will be.


End file.
